


Come With Me (If You Want to Live)

by commandmetobewell



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Terminator, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward!Lexa, Blood and Gore, Dreams and Nightmares, F/F, F/M, Feels, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Follows Plot of TSCC, Gun Violence, Humor, Major Character Injury, Nobody Dies, POV Multiple, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Side-fic, Slow Burn Clarke Griffin/Lexa, abby is just protective mother hen to the max, also clarke aka the protector of humanity and all things great is basically a brooding teenager, also enemies to friends to brotp for abby and lexa, also there's a twist with lexa's robocy(?), and is 24/7 literal and oblivious, and she ISN'T DEAD, because they need more interaction time, each chapter is one episode and follows the plot strictly at the beginning, expect a lot of bad jokes and pick up lines, it's okay because lexa's one-half canonically AI so…, jaha isn't stoned 25/8, kane still ships clexa because why not, kinda like EDI from mass effect, lexa doesn't understand human behaviour, literally everyone has a high level of sass and is done with humanity fucking things up, long chapters, nerd!Clarke, nope - Freeform, raven and octavia are little shits too, she's able to be a fully self-aware AI but needs help unlocking it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:55:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6194257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commandmetobewell/pseuds/commandmetobewell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tired of fleeing from both killers from the future and law officers in the present day, Abby Griffin resolves to go on the offensive against whatever new technological enemies may travel back in time to murder her teenaged daughter, Clarke, who is destined to become the saviour of mankind. In order to prevent the world from plummeting into chaos, Clarke must make a temporal leap to the time and place when the computer program set out to blow up the world was created. When she gets there, she realizes that the world she's been destined to save is already on its way to an seemingly inevitable war. But, Clarke can't stop it without the help of her mother, two familiar resistance fighters, a sharp-tongued mechanic, and a mysterious (and undeniably attractive) teenaged girl, who just so happens to be a reprogrammed T-900 sent from the future with only two missions: protect Clarke and Abby Griffin and prevent the apocalyptical genocide of humankind. </p><p>or</p><p>A Terminator: The Sarah Chronicles AU that no one asked for. Featuring: a(n) badass nerd Clarke, awkward dork-terminator Lexa, not-a-coward Abby, alive Jake, sassy mechanic Raven, and will-fight-anything-including-herself Octavia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come With Me (If You Want to Live)

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows the plot of Terminator: The Sarah Chronicles with canonical dialogue for the first few chapters, including some of Sarah's narratives from the show. This is a Clexa-centric AU set in the same universe as Terminator: The Sarah Chronicles but includes characters from The 100 universe instead. It won't be necessary to watch TSCC (though highly recommended - especially if you watched Firefly), as I'll go into more depth about Skynet/the Terminators/Clarke's role as the leader of humanity AKA John Connor. It's a side fic, but the chapters are hella long, with probably each one spanning an episode.
> 
> If you need reference as to who's really playing who, here is the list:
> 
> Clarke Griffin - John Connor  
> Abby Griffin - Sarah Connor  
> Lexa - Cameron  
> Marcus Kane - James Ellison  
> Teresa Jaha (canon-divergent) - Miles Dyson  
> Wells Jaha - Miles Dyson's prodigal son (canon-divergent)  
> Raven Reyes - Morris  
> Octavia Blake - Original Female Resistance Fighter (canon-divergent)  
> Jake Griffin - Kyle Reese (canon-divergent sent by Clarke in the future instead of Derek)  
> A.L.I.E. - Catherine Weaver  
> Cage Wallace - Cromartie/Agent Kester/John Henry
> 
> Prepare for a ride full of bad AI jokes, awkward Lexa, badass nerd Clarke, sassy Octavens, an Abby and Jake reunion, TSCC plot-holes explored, and just great slow burn awkward AI/Human relationships. Since Lexa is basically half-AI canonically, this isn't too OOC because she's still an awkward gay bean who has no clue about reading signals and basically only knows how to kill as her real skill (looks great on a CV, babe). It's going to be funny, plot-heavy (as always, with my fics), have a range of feels, and a great load of good times. Probably a lot of violence and blood and gore and all that great stuff but NO ONE DIES, I promise.
> 
> I hope you guys stick around and give this thing a shot! It's my first AU for this fandom and I hope I don't wreck it by nerding out too heavy on the TSCC storyline. I'd love to hear thoughts and comments, but no pressure. This isn't exactly a "short" story by any means. But I assure you, I will try to make it great!
> 
> Thanks! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's your name?" A voice from behind her calls out softly, causing Clarke to turn in confusion. Her heart stops beating in her chest as she sees the face of the girl who'd just asked for her attention while the teacher is still droning on about the class schedule. At first, Clarke doesn't know what to say.
> 
> This girl… she's beautiful.
> 
> An angled jawline and long, messy brown hair stare back at her. But that's not what dries Clarke's mouth. No, it's those gorgeous sea green eyes that draw her in, causing her lungs to deflate slightly. The tanned skin covers every inch of her, and Clarke notices that she's not wearing flannel like the other kids in the room. She's dressed in a light sweater and jeans, with a leather bag thrown over one of her shoulders. Her smile is bright and welcoming, but her eyes.
> 
> Her eyes are so… familiar.
> 
> "Uh," Clarke swallows down her nerves, "Clarke."
> 
> "Lexa," the girl replies with another flash of a smile. It's a bit awkward, but Clarke returns it, feeling her heart jump in her stomach again. 
> 
> Lexa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, BLOOD, AND MAJOR CHARACTER INJURY
> 
> It's almost three in the morning and I have a midterm tomorrow based solely on audition and I'm 7% prepared for it, and this is how I chose to spend my final moments. I make bad life choices but somehow am still on the Dean's List I am so unsure as to why I am still alive considering I had crackers and carrots for dinner. I'm totally not a mess, I sweat. And okay, this took me from 5:30pm to now, 3:00am to write and holy shit is it long and detailed and I think it turned out okay for what I was gunning for. I know a bunch of people are writing Alicia Clark/Elyza Lex AUs and so I thought I'd try my hand at something a bit different. I figured since Lexa's one-half AI, why not do a Terminator AU? 
> 
> Anyways, this chapter covers the events of the Pilot of the the first season of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles from Clarke and Abby's POV primarily. Kane's story will come in the next chapter when we dig deeper into the history behind Clarke and Abby, but for now this is just an intro as to what to expect.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you make it through nearly all 20k words of this, but no pressure. I don't even know if anyone will read this considering its length and the AU (I don't know many TSCC fans :/) but if you've read my other works and liked them, I can guarantee you'll like this one, too. Give it a shot! If you don't like it, that's totally okay :) I was just hit with inspiration and couldn't put the idea away.
> 
> Thanks so much! :D

 

* * *

_There are those who believe that a child in the womb shares her mother's dreams._

_Her love for her, her hopes for her future as it's told to her in pictures as she sleeps inside her. Is that why she reaches for her in that first moment, when she cries for her touch? But what if you've known since she was inside you, what her life has held for her? That she would be hunted, that her fate was tied to the fate of millions. That every moment of your life would be spent keeping her alive. Would she understand why you were so hard, why you held on so tight?_

_Would she still reach for you if the only dream you've shared with her is a nightmare?_

* * *

  

**Red Valley, New Mexico**

**September 6th, 1999**

 

"You'll be responsible for three chapters a week, you have a quiz each Friday, and one make-up test with parent's notice…"

Clarke struggles to keep awake as she zones in and out of focus. The teacher drawls on and on about his etiquette and rules, a lecture she's heard in every setting and every situation possible. The blonde groans under her breath as she realizes that other people in the room are writing some of this stuff down. She starts to focus her attention on them. Flannel shirts, cowboy boots, chaps, giant belt buckles, even the damned hats are on. The teenager holds down a scoff but reminds herself that she's been in worse places. New Mexico doesn't really compare all too much to remote villages in South America, after all.

"What's your name?" A voice from behind her calls out softly, causing Clarke to turn in confusion. Her heart stops beating in her chest as she sees the face of the girl who'd just asked for her attention while the teacher is still droning on about the class schedule. At first, Clarke doesn't know what to say.

This girl… she's beautiful.

An angled jawline and long, messy brown hair stare back at her. But that's not what dries Clarke's mouth. No, it's those gorgeous sea green eyes that draw her in, causing her lungs to deflate slightly. The tanned skin covers every inch of her, and Clarke notices that she's not wearing flannel like the other kids in the room. She's dressed in a light sweater and jeans, with a leather bag thrown over one of her shoulders. Her smile is bright and welcoming, but her eyes.

Her eyes are so… _familiar_.

"Uh," Clarke swallows down her nerves, "Clarke."

"Lexa," the girl replies with another flash of a smile. It's a bit awkward, but Clarke returns it, feeling her heart jump in her stomach again. 

 _Lexa_.

Before she can respond, a gruff voice cuts her off. "And no talking while _I'm_ talking."

Clarke has the decency to look ashamed when Mr Ferguson, their Chemistry teacher, glares over at her. He straightens his tie and turns again, returning to recounting the formats of the exams and the topics covered for the following weeks. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Clarke turns back to Lexa, smiling again when she finds that the brunette is still looking at her with a slight tip of her head. She doesn't say anything, but instead offers a nod and faces the teacher at last. Clarke wants to groan, but she knows better than to get herself into more trouble, especially considering just who she is. Friends are not a luxury she gets to have. She had Wells once, but she shudders as she remembers how that had ended. The nightmares still don't fade and it feels recent.

Yeah, Clarke thinks as she glares at her notebook, she's _Clarke_. And the Clarke in this universe? She doesn't get to have friends.

The bell rings after a half an hour of Mr Ferguson ranting about ionic and covalent bonds, and Clarke can't leave her seat fast enough. She walks through the bustling hallways of the high school, her gaze set on her locker at the end of the hall. Her thoughts are clouded with memories of how she came here, of why she's in a town in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by wanna-be cowboys and tumbleweed. Her eyes nearly glaze over when she thinks about it.

_She is dreaming about Finn when she is woken up to the sound of the bed creaking. Clarke jumps awake when she sees her mother staring down at her with that desperate look in her eyes, a look that she'd only seen years ago, when all of this, the running and hiding and fighting, was over. Clarke startles upwards and pleads silently, but Abby shakes her head and sighs, her hands reaching out to gently palm over one of Clarke's shaky own._

_"Why?" Is all Clarke can ask. They're happy, stable. Something she's not had in years. Her mother is engaged to a man and Clarke helped him pick out the ring. Charlie, an EMT, works with Abby in the hospital. For once in her life, she was normal. She has a family, a boyfriend, and a father figure._

_But stable is not a vocabulary word in Clarke's dictionary. It never was._

_"We can't stay here anymore, Clarke," Abby murmurs dejectedly, drawing in a breath to keep herself steady, "it's not safe."_

_Clarke protests, because damn her if she wants to let the chances of having a semi-decent life slip away. "Not safe from who? No one knows us! No one asks questions, it's… it's been almost two years! School starts in three weeks and-"_

_"We need to go," Abby cuts her off, the familiar strict and commanding façade falling into place. Clarke shakes her head, furious._

_"No,_ you _need to go." Abby doesn't flinch at her sharp tongue. "You're scared, he gave you a ring and now you're freaking out!"_

_"I know you like him," Abby sighs as she drops her hands to her waist, but Clarke cuts her off before she can finish._

_"So do you, Mom! You love him, I know you do." Clarke says as she thinks of Finn, of his lopsided smile and fluffy hair. She feels his lips on hers and his hands on her hips. She can't leave him behind, not while she's so happy and in love. Everything is great - was great - but then… then she sees how serious Abby is, how her brow is set and Clarke knows that this decision is hurting her mother just as much as it's hurting herself. Abby loves Charlie, she knows that much, but their lives don't grant much time for love these days._

_But still, Clarke pushes on to say, "the cops will never find us. We're safe."_

_It's then when Abby's head turns, sharply and coldly, a dark gaze settling over her chestnut eyes._

_"No one is ever safe," she replies as she reaches out and grabs Clarke's shoulder. "Don't you think that. Don't you ever think that. Look at me."_

_And with much resistance, Clarke does. She turns her head up to see tears stinging in Abby's eyes, tears that she's shed since the day she was born. Clarke works her jaw and swallows as Abby lets go, hanging her head and taking in a deep breath to calm herself. She cocks her head, looking to the window to see that the morning has barely begun. No one will be on the roads now, not until the sun's up a little higher. Sunday really is rest day._

_"When do we leave?" Clarke rasps as she swallows back tears. Abby doesn't look at her as she answers in a hoarse whisper._

_"Now."_

_She doesn't get to call Finn goodbye._

"Clarke!" That familiar soft voice breaks her from her thoughts and Clarke swivels her head to see Lexa walking up beside her. That limp smile hangs off her lips as she grips the handle of her leather bag in one hand. Clarke can't help but feel her stomach flip when she sees the sharp definition of Lexa's collarbones peeking out from under her low-cut shirt. Lexa, either oblivious or uncaring, doesn't bother to correct her wandering eyes Clarke blushes.

"Hey," is all Clarke can say as she takes to focusing her attention on shoving her books into her backpack. Lexa smiles again.

"I haven't seen you around here before," she says nonchalantly, her eyes still locked on her own blue pair, "did you just move here?"

"Yeah," Clarke says, though she knows it's not the truth. What is the truth nowadays anyways? Lexa just laughs, and though it sounds a bit awkward, Clarke still smiles at how the other girl's lips turn upwards with her chuckling. She zips up her bag and throws it over her shoulder. Lexa stops laughing and turns back to her when they approach Clarke's locker. The blonde quickly undoes the lock, a bit puzzled as to why the brunette is still following her.

"My dad sells tractors," Lexa announces with another flashy smile. That stops Clarke. Tractors? She almost wants to laugh because she think Lexa's telling a joke, but then when she glances up, she sees the taller girl leaning against another locker with a serious gaze in her eyes. She still smiles, but Clarke understands that she was not telling a joke, but giving her a piece of information. Information that takes her by surprise, but information nonetheless.

"What about yours?" Lexa asks, cocking her head as if unfazed by Clarke's lack of response. Snapping from her daze, Clarke bites her tongue.

 _Stick to the story_ , she can hear her mother's voice nagging in the back of her head, _no discrepancies, no questions._

"Insurance," she says as she reaches inside her locker for another binder. Lexa nods, digesting the information with wide eyes.

"Really?" She asks, as if awed by the idea of a man selling insurance as a career. "What kind?"

"The boring kind," Clarke answers, a bit snappily. She knows that it's a lie and that's what bothers her. She can't look at Lexa and tell her the truth, that her father doesn't sell insurance, but is dead. Killed by an army of robots sent to destroy mankind. Yeah, Lexa's weirdness doesn't stand a chance against her own. Lexa, however, doesn't seem to care that she's uncomfortable about the topic - what with her shifty feet or distanced gaze - and continues to speak.

"Those are the kind of tractors my dad sells," Lexa laughs again, and Clarke is definitely uncomfortable now. Her brow raises at Lexa's response, but then again, she thinks about the other students in the building and can't help but berate herself for thinking that this girl was any different than the other weirdos in this school. Sighing, Clarke closes her locker and offers Lexa a fake smile, a little defeated that she expected the girl to be a bit… _different_.

"What about your mom?"

That stops Clarke. Damned this girl and her infinite questions. This time, however, Lexa picks up on Clarke's silence like she's learning her ticks.

"My mom stays home," she answers, as if to reassure the blonde that it's okay not to speak. Clarke just nods and bites her tongue, gazing over her shoulder to a random classroom, as if to send a nonverbal message to Lexa that she wants to leave. Lexa remains blissfully unaware until Clarke turns back to her.

"I should get to class," Clarke says, shifting the weight of her backpack on one shoulder, "I'll, uh, see you around?"

Lexa cocks her head and flashes another smile before she nods. "I'll see you around." The girl practically parrots the phrase back to her with another flashy grin before moving her feet. Clarke watches as she brushes past her, not bothering to talk or interact with any other students. She keeps her intrigued stare as the bell rings, indicating the next class being close to starting. The hallways bustle once and Clarke sighs. Just as she's about to head in the direction of her English class, the principal steps around the corner with a sheet in her hands. She offers Clarke a smile before walking up to her, handing her the paper.

"Griffin," she says shortly, "you've got a schedule change. You're taking computers with Reinheimer in 120C. Best get going."

"Computers?" Clarke echoes as she looks up to see the principal walking away. She crumples the paper in her hands and sighs.

 _Great_.

-/-

Abby's repainting a section of the wall when the door swings open and Clarke walks by her without so much as a hello. The older woman sets down her roller and sighs when she hears the bedroom door slam shut and a body plop onto the springy mattress. She knows how painful this particular move had been on her daughter, especially when she remembers the boy Finn. At first Abby didn't quite like him, but after a year of them together she grew fond of the idea that her daughter could have a chance at being normal, of being a teenager in love. She looks to her own finger, remembering Charlie fondly.

He wasn't Jake, not by any means. He was different, shorter, less… opinionated than Jake. He preferred watching hockey while Jake loved soccer. He would tell her about the greatest players, the games, the feel of it all. He was full of life while Charlie was scarred by it. Working as an EMT gave him a different set of values, ones that made him stronger, tougher, a bit more hardened on the outside. Jake had to save lives too, but Jake… Jake was different.

Jake was special.

Not wanting to dwell on the past any further, Abby turns her head back to the direction of Clarke's room, biting her lip as she contemplates her next move. She sighs and sets the roller down before grabbing a small basket. She heads to Clarke's door and doesn't bother to knock as she swings it open to see her daughter splayed out on the bed with a walkman playing some rock song on full blast. A small smile tugs at her lips because this brooding teenager that glares at her with daggers in her eyes, this is the love of her life. No one else could ever come close to how much she loves Clarke.

Rolling her eyes at her mother's presence, Clarke snatches off her headphones and turns on the bed to face her when Abby picks up a dirty shirt and places it in the basket. They stare at each other in silence, with Abby smirking and Clarke still silently seething, until Clarke can't take it anymore. She sits up and rubs at her face, pulling her long blonde hair into a loose ponytail before swinging her legs over the bed. Abby takes a seat on the window sill with a sigh.

"This is a hick town, Mom." Abby's brows perk up at the grumble in Clarke's voice. "I feel like I've travelled back to the 1820s. I saw tumbleweed."

"We've been in worse places," the older woman tries to reason, but she knows that it is a pretty desolate place, New Mexico. Clarke looks to her hands, and Abby can't help but wonder what is flying through her head. What emotions are churning in her gut. What thoughts are flashing before her eyes.

"Finn would've laughed at all this," Clarke mumbles as she glances up, the rage settled for bitter amusement now. It lightens Abby's heart, but not by much when Clarke faintly chuckles, "my clothes are all wrong. I need different shirts and pants. You know everyone here wears boots? _Cowboy_ boots, Mom."

"I could get you a pair," Abby muses back when she hears the joke settling between Clarke's teasing tone, "I'm sure I can find one with spikes, too."

"Not funny. I actually _saw_ a guy wearing one with spikes," Clarke says as she scrunches up her nose, "and the weirdest chaps to accompany it, too. Finn would've… he… he would've probably dressed the same to fit in so it would cheer me up. Maybe he'd fake a southern accent and get himself expelled for misbehaving." The words are heavy with loss and Abby knows that she wants nothing more than to move back to L.A and leap into the boy's arms. But she can't do that, not while she's Clarke and she's Abby. The only bond they'll have is each other, and even that, Abby sadly knows, is not going to permanent.

"But still, cowboy boots?" Clarke asks with a scoff, pushing away the memories to scowl at her shoes. "I _hate_ cowboy boots."

Abby smiles. That's the Clarke she knows. Strong, undefeated, beautiful Clarke that puts others above herself. The Clarke that understands despite not wanting to. The Clarke that listens and follows, but has the courage to be a leader, too. She knows Clarke will have a harsh future, but she is more than capable of taking it on. It's just a matter of keeping her alive until that day comes. It hurts Abby to know that one day it will, that war is inevitable.

It doesn't lessen the blow to know that Clarke, her strong, undefeated, beautiful Clarke, is the one that will lead them through it.

"And their computers are like from the freaking fifties'," Clarke mutters out. Abby's brows shoot up and she leaps forwards.

"Computers?!" She demands, trying to reign in her rage when she sees Clarke shiver and her eyes widen. " _Their_ computers? I thought we agreed."

"It wasn't me," Clarke argues as she gulps nervously, "they switched my schedule last minute, I was trying to-"

"The last thing we need is for you to be caught hacking," Abby scolds with a shake of her head, "you know what happened last time."

Clarke visibly curls into herself and Abby holds her tongue. She lets her daughter go and leans back against the sill when she sees those bright blue eyes glaze with sadness. She internally berates herself for speaking too quickly, for letting her anger and fear get in the way of her concern for Clarke. She remembers all too clearly what happened last time. She remembers Wells too fondly, Thelonious and his wife too fondly. She sighs, hanging her head in a silent apology that she know Clarke will take despite her not being deserving of it. But Wells' loss was as much as Abby's fault as anybody's. Maybe more.

"I know," Clarke rasps after sometime, fighting down the tears. "And I tried to get out, but I couldn't. English was full. I won't hack, Mom."

"I know," Abby replies softly, nodding her head up to fix her daughter with a gentle smile. "I know you won't, I was just-"

"Concerned," Clarke finishes for her with a shrug, "I get it, Mom."

 _You shouldn't have to_ , Abby wants to scream at her, _you shouldn't have to run or hide or be so accepting of your fate._

_You should be normal._

Clarke and Abby don't speak again for a few seconds, simply allowing the unspoken words to settle between them like a potent healing elixir. Abby watches as Clarke's eyes trail back to her shoes, lost in her own thoughts once again. The ex-soldier sighs and leans back against the window, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth and tugging on it slightly. She smirks at her daughter, thinking of something other than the loneliness and sadness for a moment.

"Hey…," Abby trails off, catching Clarke's attention as the girl's one brow lifts up to look at her, "meet any new friends?"

Clarke doesn't look up and Abby sighs, but then her lip turns up again when she asks, "what about cute boys?"

No response but a noncommittal grunt comes from the brooding girl.

"Or…," Abby lets her voice fade out a bit as she tilts her head to get a better look at her daughter's face, "was it a pretty _girl_ instead?"

"I told you," Clarke mutters as she looks back at her hands, "this place is a hick town."

Abby can hear the joking tone in her voice and smiles when Clarke's head slowly nods upwards, a smirk too much like her father's own painting her lips. Abby smiles at the lightness returning to Clarke's gaze and leans back against the sill with a soft chuckle. Clarke only rolls her eyes and reaches for her pillow, throwing it at her mother with a teasing shove. Abby catches it and places it on her lap as she continues to grin in the direction of her daughter.

In that moment, they forget about the cruelty of their world and bask in the joy of another.

-/-

The next morning, Clarke sits in Chemistry and doesn't find herself falling asleep.

Lexa slides into the desk beside her, offering another smile which Clarke returns almost instantly. She is wearing a light blue collared shirt today, one that accentuates the firm bicep muscles that bulge lightly from other the material. But the tightness of the shirt still accentuates her womanly hips that Clarke can't seem to stop staring at. Lexa, as per usual, doesn't seem phased at all by Clarke's unhindered gaze, and instead greets her a warm hello. Clarke mentally chastises herself for even blushing at the way the _k_ in her name is popped, and how it causes her spine to tingle. She thinks about Finn and feels her returning smile drop. Lexa cocks her head but doesn't speak, like for once she is unsure of why Clarke isn't talking back to her.

Yet, even with Finn on her mind, Clarke can't seem to push Lexa away.

"I lied to you yesterday," Clarke says softly, looking up to see Lexa's smile wiped of her face in place of a serious expression. "My dad doesn't sell insurance. He… he doesn't sell anything, really. He's, uh, he's… he's dead. He was a soldier and he was killed on a mission." Clarke can hear her mother's yelling from miles away, about how she's fucked up, but when she looks at Lexa's eyes, so unguarded and open, she can't feel the need to regret her decision.

"I'm sorry," Lexa replies softly, her brows furrowing slightly. Clarke only chuckles sadly.

"It's alright," she answers back with a shrug, "my mom was pregnant with me when he was killed. I never knew him. So it's alright, I guess. My mom…," Clarke stumbles on the words, trying to figure out what to say. She clears her throat and continues, "my mom, she's… she's kind of uptight. Actually no," Clarke chuckles as she leans back, "she's _really_ uptight. She likes me to come home straight after school and hang out with her and stuff. I'm all she's got, you know?" Clarke turns back to the girl, a little shaken that she's let out so much that no one, not even Finn, ever knew about her. For the first time since Wells' death, Clarke feels vulnerable and it's a sensation that terrifies the blonde. Lexa, on the other hand, waits - pondering and processing this new, raw information - before she turns back to Clarke with a firm nod. A smaller smile twinges her lips upwards, but Clarke's already missing the flashy grin.

"Thank you for explaining," Lexa tells her with another nod, "it'll be our secret."

Clarke frowns in confusion. That was the most _opposite_ response of what she expected Lexa to say with everything she'd just confessed, but before she can go to question the weird answer, she's interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open and heavy boots stepping upon the linoleum floors.

"Mr Ferguson is ill today," a deep voice calls out as Clarke and Lexa turn to see a tall, stocky man walk through the doors. Clarke leans back in her chair when the teachers stands behind Mr Ferguson's desk and sets his things down on the mahogany. Clarke is about to make a smart remark to him and his blasé appearance to Lexa, but when she turns, she sees Lexa leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed, a glare shearing its way to the substitute.

"My name is Cromartie," the man says from the front. One of the girls in the class snickers.

"Cromartie? That's your only name?" She quips, getting a rouse from some of her other classmates. "Like… Madonna?"

"Madonna? Why?" Cromartie asks back, cocking his head as he places his jacket on the desk. "No."

Clarke chuckles with the rest of the class, but she finds it strange that Lexa is still glaring, unaffected by the response. The teacher doesn't seem to notice either as he sits down, pulling out a notebook and a pen before staring up at all of them with a stoic expression. "Let's start off with attendance," he says as he shifts on the seat, "Marie Buaie?" The girl who made the Madonna joke sassily quips back a 'here' and Cromartie continues down the list.

"Lexa Forrest?" Cromartie finally reaches the brunette's name, but doesn't glance up. When he doesn't get a timely response, he repeats, "Lexa?" Clarke looks over to see Lexa still glaring, not responding to the man. Eventually, the teacher's head nods upwards, searching the room until finally the girl caves and Lexa growls out, " _here_." Clarke frowns as the teacher cocks his head at her response, but continues anyways.

"Clarke Griffin?" He asks, looking back at his notebook before setting something down on the desk, "do we have a _Clarke_ Griffin?"

Clarke, still confused by Lexa's response, doesn't say anything and instead opts to raise her hand. Cromartie's head nods up and he smiles.

" _Excellent_."

The man surges upwards and Clarke barely has two seconds to register the gun in his hands before he fires. She ducks to the floor, feeling the heat of the bullets whizzing over her head as she crawls towards the sinks in the back of the classroom. She staggers to her feet and covers her head as the class screams, barely turning around to watch in horror as Lexa stands from her desk and steps in front of her, the hardened glare never leaving her face. She goes to tell the girl to run when Cromartie cocks his head and fires the gun again, its target now on the brunette instead of her.

Clarke feels like she's reliving Wells' death as Lexa's body staggers backwards four, five, six times, stumbling into her own. She feels Lexa's arms wrap around her and her back cover her own as Cromartie continues to shoot in their direction. There's the ceremonial click of an empty cartridge that causes Clarke to push Lexa's body off in trepidation. She can't leave Lexa, but she knows the drill. She bites her lip and looks up to see the gaping hole in Cromartie's leg, a hole where she can barely catch the glinting of metal from beneath the tattered skin. Clarke's stomach plummets with the realization.

_It's back._

Clarke runs through to the other side of the class, not looking back at Lexa for the fear of shutting down, and she jumps through the window. She climbs down the roof and jumps to roll on the lawn. She scrambles to her feet and ducks behind a school bus as more shots ring out. She tilts her head over her shoulder to see the teacher - the machine - walking towards her, loading another clip into his Glock before making his way to the school bus. Clarke runs towards the parking lot, weaving in and out of cars as she hears the screeching of metal hitting the concrete. She looks up from the trunk of an old Camero to see the school bus turned over on its side with glass shattered everywhere. The man as ascended it, using it as lookout point to find her.

And it doesn't take long for him to do it.

Clarke ducks as she watches the gun lifts, holding back a scream as she feels the sting of her flesh cutting open as the bullet grazes her cheek. She keeps low as she runs further through the parking lot, taking shelter amongst the various cars until she can rest a bit. She knows that running is the only thing that will keep her safe. It will find her, it always does. Clarke slides between two trucks and ducks her head to catch her breath before peaking her head upwards to see if she can find Cromartie through the other cars. A sigh of relief nearly causes her body to collapse when she sees no one there.

But then, a shadow passes in front of her and Clarke whips around to stare into the eyes of death.

Clarke shivers in front of the man with the bleeding leg, watching in horror as the gun raises and points in her face. He cocks his head and she can hear the slight buzzing of whatever internal processing he's got going on within him reading her for information. Clarke tries to stumble away, but her body remains frozen and watching when Cromartie cocks his head back to a straight position and moves his finger to pull the trigger.

Before he can release the bullet, a truck whizzes past and collides with his side, sending the machine flying forward a few meters. Clarke gasps, completely shocked as the truck shifts into reverse and comes back to where she's kneeling on the pavement. The passenger door kicks open and Clarke's eyes widen.

Lexa, bloody and bullet-riddled, stares back at her and sternly says, " _come with me if you want to live_."

-/-

Abby is waiting tables at the local diner when she walks by the television on the corner of the bar as it crackles.

" _Witness are reporting gunfire just minutes ago at Crescent View High School in Red Valley…_ "

Abby drops the plates and runs out the door without looking back. 

She reaches her truck within minutes and screeches out of the parking lot in the direction of her daughter's high school. She fumbles inside her jacket pocket for her phone and flips it open, pressing the number two on the pad to speed-dial Clarke's number. She presses the metal against her ear and waits as the phone rings. When Clarke's monotone answering message replies Abby growls and slams the phone shut, tossing it across the dashboard and slams on the accelerator. She speeds through the open road until she comes across a ridge overlooking the high school. Setting the car into park, Abby leaps out and scrambles over to the rocks with her binoculars and gun in hand. She holsters the weapon and places the binoculars on her face to see the school.

Paramedics and police cars are lining the entrances. Authorities and staff members of the school are ushering out the traumatized students in an orderly fashion, but Abby can't see Clarke through the haze. Her heart thumps faster in her chest as she frantically tries to find her daughter. She knows that if Clarke got out, she'd be long gone. She is about to pull away from the sight in front of her when her vision is clouded with black. Abby barely has time to remove the binoculars to see a grown man with metal peeking out beneath a bloodied cut on his face grab her throat and launch her backwards.

Abby lands with a grunt into the dirt, rolling slightly as she goes to reach for her gun. She fires a shot but the man keeps walking, absorbing the bullet like it's nothing. His hand finds her throat as he kneels, shoving her further into the ground. He cocks his head, eyes scanning her as she writhes underneath his powerful, choking grip. Abby kicks and thrashes, but she knows there's no point. His strength will always outweigh her own.

"Abby Griffin," the cyborg states coldly. Abby spits in his face, clawing at his arms in an attempt to get free.

"Where is she?!" She screams in his face, her legs kicking against his once more, "what have you done with her?" The man doesn't respond, only continues to stare. It slowly registers in Abby's mind and she begins to cackle sadistically. She reaches for her gun and holds it to her own head, her eyes welling with tears. "You don't know," she chokes out as she shakes her head, "you don't know where she is, do you? Do you?!" Her finger goes for the trigger, but he slams her down again, knocking away the gun before she can end her life. He continues to stare into her, nodding his head firmly as he tightens his grip.

"Killing yourself _is_ the best strategy," he says almost pensively, "but if you're alive, I can use you against her."

"Go to hell," Abby spits again, her hand scrabbling once more for the gun that's out of reach. He's about to respond when there's a characteristic ringing of her phone in her jacket pocket. The man above her freezes and, while keeping the hold on her neck strong, reaches inside the pocket for the phone and pulls it out. Abby screams but the man quickly places his hand above her mouth and keeps her quiet. He flips it open and holds it to his ear.

"Clarke?" He says, his voice modulating to mimic Abby's own. "Clarke, are you there?" 

"Mom! Mom!" Clarke's voice cries back through the phone and Abby struggles further under the machine's grip. "Mom, I-"

"I tried to call you but you didn't pick up," he says as he looks to Abby's wide eyes, "are you safe?"

"I'm okay, but listen to me," Clarke's frantic voice continues to speak, "they're back. They're all fucking back."

"Clarke," the man says in soothing tone, "Clarke, slow down. Where are you?"

"I'm going to the house," Clarke replies and Abby struggles further under the hold. She tries to scream again, but her voice is muffled by the machine. He doesn't smile at Clarke's information, but then again why would he ever smile? Abby tries to bite his hand, but her teeth only clamp on metal.

"I'll be right there," the man says as Clarke continues to protest over the line. At any given moment, Abby would smile because she knows her daughter. She knows what she's taught her and this man, this cyborg or whatever he is, knows nothing. She doesn't worry when Clarke keeps screaming and when the man quickly tells her, "I love you, Clarke, stay right there. I'll be there soon." He flips the phone shut and looks down at Abby with an emotionless glance.

Abby doesn't have time to react before he reaches up and slams her against the ground hard enough to knock her out.

-/-

"What did she say?" Lexa asks when Clarke hops back into the truck. Clarke holds the phone in her hands and frowns.

"She's going to meet us at the house," Clarke replies, still unsure of the words leaving her lips. Lexa nods and starts up the car, intending to go in the direction that leads to the blonde's property. Clarke quickly raises her hand and Lexa looks over, her eyes bearing into her own with intrigue.

"It's a trap," Clarke says as she palms over the phone in her clammy hand, "my mom… she would never tell me to hide, it's always been run."

"We should run then," Lexa says, turning the car around sharply and heading on a different road. Clarke is jostled around in her seat, her mind still a little dizzy from almost dying and then finding out that Lexa is _one of them_ (she can't even fathom saying the word as she sees blood on Lexa's shirt). She gets her mind back into place and shakes her head, placing her hand on the dashboard and looking out the window to the receding mountains in the distance.

"No, I can't leave her," she says with a growl, defiantly refusing to be a coward, "we have to go back."

"It isn't safe," Lexa answers in monotone voice, staring straight ahead and not offering her another glance. "I was tasked to protect you."

"Yeah well, there's no me without my mom," Clarke growls as she glares at Lexa's nonchalant expression. "I need her. I draw the line at her."

Lexa remains quiet, like she's thinking about it. Well, maybe thinking isn't the right word, Clarke deduces as she sees Lexa's brows furrow slightly. Maybe it's more about calculations. Maybe she's running algorithms, permutations and combinations to come up with the best solution to the problem. For a second, as the continue travelling on their path, Clarke honestly believes that Lexa won't let her make her choice. But then, something clicks in those green eyes and Clarke isn't given a warning before Lexa is swinging the car around again in a harsh u-turn to return back towards the house.

"Fuck," Clarke swears as she shakes the dizziness away again, "warn a girl next time, will you?"

Lexa doesn't respond, not that Clarke expects her too, really. She brushes off the silence and gulps, looking back at her phone before glancing at Lexa.

"I think I have a plan."

-/-

When Abby wakes up, she's sitting in the recliner at the back of the den with a metallic hand against her throat. She turns her head to see the man from before crouching behind the chair, keeping his face hidden as he stares ahead. She tries to speak again, but the fingers clawing at her neck are preventing any noise from creeping out. She wheezes and hisses at the soreness in her body, but refuses to give into this monster. She knows Clarke wouldn't come.

Right?

But then, there's the squealing of brakes and the sound of an engine being cut and Abby's entire body physically shuts down.

 _Wrong_.

"Clarke?" The man beside her calls out, his voice still tuned to her own, "Clarke is that you?"

The front door swings open and Abby wants to cry when she sees a hooded figure walk through. She can't see her face but she prays that it's not her daughter. She struggles in the chair, tears starting to flood down her cheeks as she watches the person step through, walking further into the room.

"Mom?" The uncharacteristically familiar sound of her daughter's voice jars Abby to the bone. "Mom, we have to go."

Before Abby can try to scream again, the man beside her stands and raises the gun.

Three shots to the chest and Clarke falls to the ground.

 _Dead_.

"No!" Abby screams as she's released from the machine's grip. "No, no, no," she cries into the floor as she begins to sob. The man just walks over to where her daughter's body lays splayed on the ground, unmoving and motionless. She curls her arms around her body and shakes her head as she realizes that she's failed. The one mission she's ever had and she's failed. All that running and hiding, it was for nothing. It all caught up to her in the end.

But then, Abby hears a large bang and looks up to see that Clarke's standing up and gripping the machine with her bare hands.

Only, it's not Clarke.

"Neat trick," the figure replies in her daughter's voice, "you like?"

The hood falls to reveal a brunette with green eyes and blood dripping down her face. It's then that Abby sees the metallic casing beneath the skin. _Another one, but how?_ She's left confused as she watches the girl throw the machine into the wall like it's made of paper, before following it. She breaks out of her daze and quickly goes to the wall she'd just been painting and reaches for the axe that's leaned up against it. She swings it into the plaster, cutting out the private stores for her guns and grenades. She fishes out the shotgun and pumps it, rushing to follow the two machines into the room. She watches as they tousle and throw each other around the house. Abby levels the shotgun and aims it at the man, firing four times when she sees that she's got an opening.

The man turns around and cocks his head, but before he can lunge in her direction, the girl is on him again, throwing him into the opposite wall with enough force to break through the plaster. Abby watches in horror again, but before she can say anything, the front door swings open again. She reacts upon instinct, expecting another machine to fill her vision. She pumps the shotgun in advance, but only halts her finger on the trigger when she sees Clarke staring back at her, a thin line of blood caked on her cheek and a wild, fearful look in her eyes. Abby barely lowers the gun as she runs over and grabs her.

"Next time you do what you're trained to," Abby seethes as she clutches her daughter tightly, "you run."

Clarke doesn't answer, though Abby can see the frustration building in those blue eyes. She hears more banging and crashing inside the house and snaps out of her daze to grab at her daughter and usher her outside. They both run in the direction of the car and Abby jumps in immediately, rushing to start the car while Clarke buckles her seatbelt. She gets the car going and pulls out of the driveway, tires squealing on the dusty ground as she speeds away from the house. She doesn't look back, nor does she look at her daughter, until they're at a safe range and away from the two battling machines.

"What the fucking hell were you thinking?!" Abby demands as she slows her speed down to avoid the risk of getting caught by cops, "Clarke?!"

"I was in class one minute and the next…," Clarke stumbles on the words, shaking her head as if still in shock from the events. "Mom, I did what you told me to. I ran, but I knew when you called what happened. I knew he… I knew it wasn't you and that's why I came back. Shit, if it weren't for Lexa-"

"Lexa?!" Abby practically roars as she glares at her daughter. "That thing has a name?"

"That _thing_ ," Clarke accentuates the word with a growl, "was sent here to protect me!"

"They don't know how to protect," Abby says with discontent, shaking her head. "They only know how to kill. They're _machines_ , Clarke, not people."

Just as Clarke goes to answer, there's a thump in the bed of their truck. Clarke swivels her head to see Lexa crouching and staring back at her, waiting on her command. Clarke nods and Lexa clambers around the edge, gripping tightly to the handles as she makes her way to where Clarke has scooted into the middle seat and has opened the door. Abby glares when Lexa enters the car and closes the door, more so when the machine (because she refuses for it to be anything else) glances over at her without any emotion. Clarke looks to her pleadingly, but Abby doesn't respond. She only tightens her grip on the steering wheel and continues to drive on the road, unsure of where she's going. She'd taken so many twists and turns she doesn't know what direction they're heading. She reaches over Clarke's lap to the glove box and pulls out a map. Before she can go to spread it, the robot speaks.

"You're heading north," Lexa says coolly, "towards Los Angeles."

"So you're a GPS now?" Abby growls with a scoff as she arches her brow. "What else can you do?"

"Mom," Clarke interrupts, but Abby shakes her head. "Mom, come on-"

"No, no, tell me what else. You can modulate your voice, you know what direction we're going, you're indestructible. What else can you do?"

"I can do many things," Lexa replies, not catching the bitter sarcasm dripping from the tone Abby uses to speak. "I am the newest model."

"Brilliant," Abby mutters under her breath as she continues to drive straight. "The newest model."

"Mom, can we not?" Clarke pleads again, her eyes narrowing as she looks between the two of you. "She saved us. Let's just accept that."

"Fine," Abby reluctantly agrees for the sake of her daughter, "but don't expect me to be nice. At the end of the day, it's still one of them."

Neither Lexa nor Clarke respond while Abby continues to seethe in her seat. After a few minutes of silence, the older woman's rage begins to pass and she allows herself to see without the anger clouding her view. She adjusts herself in the seat and glances over to where Lexa is still staring ahead. She urges herself to not make another remark, and instead focuses on what is important. She clears her throat, catching her daughter's attention, too.

"Did you stop it?" Abby asks lowly, her glare still present. Lexa nods assuringly, blood still dripping from her cut brow.

"One hundred and twenty seconds until his system reboots," Lexa replies as she looks over, "then he will be back on our trail."

"That's not stopping it," Abby quips as she growls back at the machine, "that's _stalling_  it, Tin Man."

"Tin Man?" Lexa asks, cocking her head in confusion. "I do not understand."

"Yeah," Abby snorts, "didn't think you would."

"Mom," Clarke cuts in again, obviously agitated over the whole situation. "Just drive. Please."

Abby doesn't miss the way one of Clarke's fingers trails up to massage her temple. It's then that she registers the cut on her daughter's cheek and her heart thumps in concern. Their connection is strong enough for her daughter to know that something's up, so Clarke gulps down the pain and offers a bleak smile, barely choking out, "it grazed me. I'm okay. If Lexa hadn't hit Cromartie when she did, I'd be dead. I owe her my life." Abby doesn't reply to the statement, and something twists in her gut when she sees a hidden expression in Clarke's shimmering blue eyes. Lexa doesn't respond either, and for that, Abby is glad. There's only so much machine she can handle and driving with one of them isn't exactly on her to do list.

"Where are we going to go?" Clarke asks after awhile, leaning back in her seat. "We can't run forever, Mom."

"L.A.," Abby answers, not able to look at her daughter or the cyborg. "We'll figure it out from there."

They drive until the sun goes down and the truck runs out of fuel. Abby pulls over in the nearest gas station and fills it up before parking behind the abandoned lot far off the highway. When she powers off the engine, she turns to see that Clarke is asleep, her head having accidentally fallen on Lexa's shoulder in the process. The machine for its part looks confused as how to proceed, only glancing up at Abby for some sort of direction. The ex-soldier only grunts and gently reaches over to angle Clarke's head away before settling a jacket over her front to act as a blanket and keep her warm.

"I was sent to protect her," Lexa says, her voice softer that usual as she stares at Abby's daughter. "Clarke sent me to protect both of you."

"Not here. Not yet," Abby replies shortly, not taking her eyes off of Clarke as she rests. She barely chokes out an echoed, "not yet."

Lexa doesn't respond, or at least Abby doesn't give her the time as she exits the truck and starts gathering materials to build a fire. She circles the grounds and lights a match into the pit she created and sits back against a rock, reaching into the bag of food she'd got from the small mini-mart inside the gas station. Pulling out a soda and some crackers, Abby glances up to see that Lexa has stripped off her bloodied top and bra, revealing ample breasts and tight, tan skin. Abby has the decency to be embarrassed for her, considering that the machine itself can't feel the stupid emotion. She focuses her attention onto her box of crackers and takes a swig of her soda, her mind still repeating the images of today. It haunts her, but she uses it as fuel to protect Clarke.

Abby glances back up to see Lexa using a pair of pliers to remove a bullet from the metal inside her collarbone. She twists it out and stares at it with the tilt of her head before setting it aside countless others. Abby watches with a frown as she continues on her work, still unaware of her nudity or Abby's presence. She just continues to pluck out each and every bullet, each and every bullet that could've been inside Clarke. Abby shakes away the thought.

"You might want to put those back in the holster," Abby says as she reaches for the map on the stone beside her, giving Lexa nod. The machine plucks out one more bullet from just above her chest and glances over, confused for a moment. But then, she catches wind of what Abby's intention.

"Oh," Lexa replies as she sets down the pliers by her pile of bullets. She turns around and reaches for her shirt, pulling it over her arms as Abby looks away and sets aside her crackers so she can focus on the map. Once she hears the cessation of rustling, she nods her head back up to Lexa.

"We should be good here two more hours, then we'll hit the border at lunchtime tomorrow." Lexa nods, but doesn't say anything as she starts to button up her shirt. Abby folds the map and puts the crackers back in the bag as she stands, making her way to where Lexa leans against the open bed of the truck.

"What year are you from?" She asks tentatively, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth as she places the bag of food in the trunk. Lexa looks at her, gaze unchanged by the softness in Abby's voice. She leans off the truck and turns to face the older brunette with a stoic expression.

"2027," Lexa responds shortly before moving past her to grab at the jacket on the other side of the car. Abby's stare remains fixed to the map.

"How long have you been looking for us?" She asks without looking at the machine. Lexa slips the jacket on and zips it up.

"Seventy-three days," Lexa replies as she turns to face Abby's stiffened back. Abby barely hazards a nod as she sucks in a deep breath.

"And the war?"

"The Skynet Missile Defence System goes online April 19th, 2011," Lexa recounts without so much as a change in her voice. "It declares war on mankind and two days later, triggering a nuclear apocalypse." Abby processes the information silently, glad that Lexa doesn't offer much more than that. There's only one thought in her head, one _name_ that repeats over and over again like a broken record. All she sees is Clarke's teary face, all she hears is her screams.

And blood. So much _blood_.

"Wells Jaha?" Abby asks as she turns her head to face the machine that stares at her. "What about him?"

"Someone else built Skynet," Lexa answers without a pause. Abby frowns in confusion.

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"You don't _know_?!" Abby demands, tears brewing in her eyes as she reimagines the blood on Clarke's hands, the glassy look in Wells' eyes, the sirens from the street and Thelonious' tearful shouting. Abby forces down the memories as she snarls at Lexa. "You don't know who built the computer program that destroyed the world?" Lexa moves past her and goes to the side mirror of the truck, pulling back a strand of hair to look at a cut on her brow. 

"I wasn't sent here for that," Lexa responds without looking at Abby, her tone neutral. Abby bites her lip and shakes her head.

"No," Abby says in agreement, stifling her anger for a moment. "You were sent here to keep my daughter from being assassinated." 

Lexa pauses, straitening slightly. Abby decides that she doesn't like it when Lexa's spine stiffens like that.

"Your fiancé went to the police," Lexa tells her as she turns around. "You should have changed your alias. The Griffin surname holds too many records."

"Fuck off," Abby snarls as she turns her stare from intrigued to pissed, "you don't get to show up out of nowhere and tell me or my daughter what to do."

"I don't tell Clarke anything," Lexa says as she tilts her head in confusion. "I was programmed to _listen_ to Clarke."

"Yeah, and who programmed that?" Abby spits in disgust, still surprised by the information of Charlie going to the police. Lexa juts her chin up slightly.

"My creator," she says as she looks to Clarke sleeping inside the truck. "She programmed me to protect Clarke."

Abby follows her gaze, her anger seeping through her pores as she growls at the machine. But the way Lexa looks at Clarke is different from how Lexa looks at anyone or anything else. There's a… softness in her eyes that would make anyone else believe the cyborg standing in front of her is human. Abby pushes away the thought and deduces that her lack of rest and accumulation of worry from the day's events are causing her to become delusional.

"It wouldn't have mattered anyways," Lexa says, drawing Abby away from her thoughts, "they would have found you. They always do."

When Lexa turns away to go stand post by the front of the car, Abby sits alone in silence, tears steadily slipping down her cheeks.

_They always do._

-/-

Clarke opens her eyes to the sound of crunching metal and shoots up out of her seat immediately.

She sees Lexa at the front of the car, prying off the guardrail and throwing it to the ground like it's weightless. The brunette catches her awake but doesn't offer that flimsy smile she'd done the day they'd met. Clarke frowns and shoves open the door. She walks up to Lexa, who's now propped the hood open.

"What are you doing?" She asks, raising her brow. Lexa glances over without so much as a smile.

"Preparing the truck," she answers in short, "your mother wants to move soon. I am helping."

"Clarke," Abby's stern voice calls from behind her. Clarke turns around to see Abby loading up a shotgun before slinging it over her shoulder. Clarke moves past the machine and makes her way over to her mother, biting her lip as she processes the words she wants to tell the brunette. Abby looks concerned at the look in the blonde's eyes, her gaze flitting to the dried blood and sealed cut on Clarke's cheek. The blonde shakes her head and sighs, looking down.

"Why is this happening again?" Clarke asks, glancing up to look at her mother. Abby is taken aback by the question, her bottom lip falling back into her mouth and encapsulated by her teeth as she takes in Clarke's question. Clarke waits while listening to Lexa doing… whatever Lexa is doing to the truck's engine behind her. When she sees that her mother isn't willing to give an answer, she turns her head away, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't know," Abby answers softly, reaching out to place her hand upon Clarke's stiff shoulder. Clarke glances back up, tears pooling in her eyes.

"Didn't you stop it?" She asks breathily, the memories of the last time this happened still fresh in her mind. Abby swallows harshly.

"I guess I didn't," Abby murmurs as she flicks her gaze downwards. A sadness, mixed with rage, fills Clarke and she isn't able to look at her mother, at the woman who made a sacrifice for her, who fought for so long and was beaten down constantly, only to be thrown back into the fight again. It's not even her fight, it's Clarke's battle. It's Clarke that all these machines are hunting and it's Clarke that has to watch other people die so she may live.

_"I forgive you," Wells murmurs as he places his bloodied palm to her cheek. "I know why this needed to happen."_

_"Please," Clarke begs as she holds her hands to his mutilated chest. Her mother is in the background, screaming at Thelonious._

_It should've never happened this way._

_"Please," she pleads again as Wells' eyes stare at her, "please don't leave me."_

_"I have to," Wells' last words are clipped by death, "you know I have to, Clarke."_

_That didn't mean it couldn't hurt in the process. And it hurts, a lot. For Clarke, for Abby, for Thelonious, for Teresa, and most especially, for Wells. For her best friend who thought that his computer program was nothing more than a gaming platform. That teaching it to mimic intelligence, to become self-aware in its motives and positions wasn't wrong. Wells had hopes and dreams and he loved, loved so deeply and so achingly that he was willing to harbour a secret that ended up driving them apart for so many years. He was willing to protect her despite her hate and now, it shatters him in the end._

_Wells dies with a sad smile on his face and Clarke's shaking hand on his chest._

"But you can," Clarke growls as she wipes away at the tears slipping down her cheeks, "you did it before and you can do it again." Abby stiffens at the words and turns away, walking over to the barely burning fire in one of the empty trashcans. She puts it out with a bucket of water, still not looking at Clarke.

"You changed the future, you just didn't change it enough." Clarke's voice is strained as she pleads for her mother to listen, to turn around and look at her and to listen to what she's telling her. "So we can do it again. We don't have to run anymore. We can fight. Please, Mom. Listen to me. We can fight."

"I don't know, Clarke." Abby doesn't look at her daughter when she replies. Clarke's stare hardens and she shakes her head stubbornly.

"Well, I can't keep running. I'm tired of being a coward," Clarke argues back, noticing Lexa creeping up behind her to watch their confrontation. "Mom, look at me. I am tired of watching people die. I am tired of hiding from my problems. I mean, aren't I supposed to be the one to lead a band of brothers in the future? Huh, isn't it me who's supposed to be this messiah of sorts? How the hell can I do that when you won't let me even fight one machine?"

"Because that machine has almost killed you every time we've fought it," Abby spins around and glares at her daughter, "you're not ready."

"How will I ever be ready if you won't let me fight?!" Clarke demands, seeing red as she eyes the gun in her mother's arms. "I need to prepare."

"Not yet."

"Not yet?" Clarke asks, baffled by Abby's response. "Not fucking yet? Mom, they're back. There won't be a next time or a later or a yet. It's now or never, and never isn't an option. You know that. You know that there's no way we can run forever. We have to fight back. You may think that I'm supposed to be the chosen one or whatever the hell I'm supposed to be, but I'm not. I'm not strong like you are. I can't fight like you can. I can't stop it. Only you can, Mom."

Abby doesn't respond, and Clarke huffs out of frustration. She goes to turn when she slams into Lexa's hard body, nearly giving herself whiplash in the process. Lexa cocks her head and takes a step back, her eyes scanning Clarke's body for any sign of injury. Clarke growls and tries to shove past her when two firm hands grip her shoulders. She looks to Lexa's searching gaze and glares at her, nonverbally telling her to get her hands off of her.

"Your mother is right," Lexa tells her in a gentle voice. "The threat is dangerous." Clarke is about to run her mouth when Lexa turns to face Abby.

"However," she says as she drops her hand, "if you wish to fight back, I can help you." Clarke's brows perk at the response and she swivels her head to stare at her mother desperately. She swallows hard and steps forward, folding her hands together as she begs for Abby to listen.

"I can't lead an army," she begs again, shaking her head, "I can't stop this, Mom. No matter what or who they think I am, I can't do it. I need you."

Abby takes a breath and bites her lip, contemplating her answer as she sees Clarke trembling in front of her. Her gaze migrates over to Lexa's stoic frame, her brows furrowing when she sees the machine glancing at her daughter in concern, her fingers twitching as if unsure what to do. Lexa's eyes shift to hers and widen slightly, but not enough for Abby to see a shift in emotion. Swallowing down her own fear, Abby swallows and straightens with breath.

"Okay," Abby whispers after some time, glancing back at her daughter. She leans forward and wraps her arms around Clarke. "I'll stop it."

Clarke doesn't hug Abby back and before she can move, her mother is pulling away and nodding for Lexa to close the bonnet and get in the truck. The girl nods and looks back at Clarke, awaiting her response. Clarke barely nods as she lets her mother's words sink in. Lexa waits for Clarke to get in before she follows suite, closing the passenger door as Abby starts up the car and pulls it out of the abandoned lot and rolls it forward towards the highway.

"We're not going across the border," Abby says as she rears off a highway exit. Lexa frowns in confusion.

"Where are we going?" The machine asks, glancing between Clarke and Abby with a tilt of her head. Abby only sighs, looking at Clarke's guarded expression. The blonde knows, and it hurts her to think that they have to go back to the place where this all began, where her hands had first felt the warmth of blood and her eyes first saw the sight of death. She gulps down the wave of nausea and looks over at Lexa with a grim expression.

"To find Skynet."

They drive in silence after that, until the truck once again runs out of fuel and they have to pull over. Abby goes in to pay for the gas and says she'll come back a with a few more provisions considering the length of their journey. Lexa watches the fuel pump into the tank of the truck while Clarke leans against the bed, popping a few tortilla chips into her mouth as she ponders their new mission, of how she'll be greeted - if she'll be greeted at all by the Jahas. Screams haunt her, cause her to shake, and suddenly the chips in her stomach feel less like food and more like poison that she wants to expel. 

So Clarke does what Clarke does best: she pushes it all down.

"Chip?" She asks as Lexa comes to stand beside her. The girl looks at the bag with a furrowed brow, confused by the question.

"I think we have nuts and bolts in the kit," Clarke remarks, a bit amused by Lexa's befuddlement. "I don't really know what robots eat, actually."

"We don't eat," Lexa responds as she looks back up at Clarke. "we are built with a plasma reactor as a credited power source, while our endoskeleton is covered with hyper-alloy armour to increase durability. Anything else is redundant." Clarke processes the information slowly, obviously forgetting that Lexa probably doesn't understand humour. She flashes back to the time that they'd first met and asks herself how she'd been fooled by her in the first place. But then, as Lexa tilts her head, exposing the creamy plane of her collarbones, Clarke blushes and remembers exactly why she'd been fooled in the first place.

 _If Skynet's plan to kill me is to work, they may as well just send sexy robots because apparently that does the trick_ , Clarke scoffs at herself. Lexa continues to stare at her in confusion before the brunette finally clears her throat and almost timidly, if Clarke could describe it as that, leans against the truck.

"Back at school, you apologized for lying to me," Lexa says as she reaches for the nozzle of the fuel tank. She sets it in the holster before turning back to face Clarke with a serious expression. "So… I should apologize for lying to you." She says it like it's a question, like she's unsure if it's morally correct. Clarke only offers a smile and shrugs, digging back into her small bag of chips for another one before popping it into her mouth slowly.

"It's alright," Clarke says as she turns back to face Lexa, "I get it. You needed to get close to me. It's just the way you're…," she struggles with the word, unsure of what to say, in case she offends Lexa. Not that it's a thought that she thinks through, though. She hardly think Lexa even knows what it means to be offended, but then again, this is the same girl who convinced her she was human when really she was an AI the entire time. From the corner of her eye, she can see her mother returning from the shop with a paper bag filled with goods in her arms. So, Clarke instead opts for, "the way you're wired, I guess."

"Programmed," Lexa corrects, again with the gentle tone from earlier, "we do not use wires. I run on nuclear energy. Wires are… inefficient."

" _Programmed_ then," Clarke chuckles to herself as she turns back to face the flat horizon of the road, "still, you fooled me. I mean, who was I kidding? What were the chances that some hot girl was going to talk to the weird new kid on the first day of school. I was stupid and you got me." Lexa frowns slightly.

"In the future you have many friendships," Lexa responds as she places her hand on Clarke's shoulder. "And love."

"Yeah," Clarke scoffs in disbelief as she glares down at her chip bag, "and how do you know that?"

"I've met your friends - all of them," Lexa answers nonchalantly, nodding a little. "Your spouse, too."

"My… spouse?" Clarke asks, surprised by how Lexa says it without so much as an ounce of excitement. "Um, well, what… _who_ …"

"That's not for me to tell," Lexa replies as she quirks her lips up in a quasi-smile, "it's not why I was programmed."

Clarke glances up in confusion, but Lexa only nods to indicate that she's not going to reveal more about that topic. Sighing, Clarke digs through the bag for another chip and places it in her mouth, satisfied with the salty crunch of the chip. She continues chewing before glancing back at Lexa with a jut of her chin upwards. Lexa cocks her head again, and Clarke quickly deduces that it's the most adorable quality of this indestructible, machine-killing cyborg.

"What model are you?" Clarke asks curiously, swallowing the bite remaining in her mouth. "You seem… different." Lexa ponders the question before she takes action. She reaches over Clarke's front and carefully pries at a small chip from the middle of the bag in her hands. She offers Clarke another smile, not the weirdly exaggerated one from when they'd met, but a genuine smile that makes Clarke's heart leap up into her throat and her breath to stop.

"It's because I am," Lexa offers as a response before popping the chip into her mouth. 

When Clarke turns around, she sees her mother staring back at her with a guarded expression.

"You are," Clarke agrees as she trashes the empty bag of chips, "you most definitely are, Lexa."

-/-

Being at the Jaha residence seems ironic after all these years.

Abby rings the doorbell and stands as straight as she can. She doesn't have to look over to know Clarke is shaking. Lexa, on the other hand, looks as about as human as a mannequin with the way she stares ahead without any emotional connection. She wants to lean over and tell her to quit being so damned stoic all the time, but before she can, the door in front of her opens and a tired-looking Thelonious stares back at her, his brows furrowing into a frown.

" _You_ ," is all Thelonious can spit out after everything they've been through. Abby shakes away the venom in his voice as she steps forward.

"We need to talk about Wells, Thelonious," Abby urges, keeping strong for the sake of her still-trembling daughter. Lexa's gaze shifts to Clarke now, concerned once again about the well-being of the blonde. Thelonious shakes his head again, bitterly scowling in her direction as he stands his ground.

"How _dare_ you come here?" Thelonious growls, tears welling in his eyes as his son's name is brought up. "How dare you come to my home after all these years, after all that _you've_ done?! How dare you think it's okay to come back here and request an audience that you do not deserve." Abby clenches her jaw and tries to hold back her own tears. Wells had been a son to her, too. She'd cared for him as a child alongside the Jaha family. She knew him, loved him.

"I know what they told you but it didn't happen that way," Abby tells him softly, her voice croaking as she remembers the sirens, the gunshots, the blood - Clarke and the dead body of the boy who'd always loved her laying sprawled out and motionless. She gulps down her emotions and steels herself, willing the memories to slide away in face of a new purpose. She clears her throat and tries again. "Thelonious, please you have to-"

"Get the hell out of here," the man barks in a sneer, eyeing Clarke and Lexa viciously, "now."

Again, Abby tries with more force this time. "It. Didn't. Happen. That. Way."

Thelonious whips away from her and strides through his house. Abby already knows where she's going and follows him, not bothering on etiquette as she jogs into the kitchen where he already has the phone in his hands, fingers primed over the keypad and ready to dial for the police. A silent just like the last time lingers in her mind, but once again, Abby shoves it down and reaches for Thelonious' muscled arm. He's more lean than he was years ago, but the thought doesn't comfort her. She sees the haunting gaze lingering in his dark eyes, the wrinkles around his lips and foreheads, the shadows above his cheeks. If death could have a living form, Thelonious would be the poster child. The hand on his arm doesn't make him drop the phone, but he pauses.

"I can't let you do that," Abby pleads with a rasp in her voice. "I can't let you call them. I… I need you to listen to me."

"Me?" Thelonious asks with a hoarse croak. "You need me to listen to you? After you came in here, murdered my wife and son-"

"I didn't kill Wells!" Abby snarls as she releases his grip on the man. "I… I didn't do it, okay? I didn't kill him and I didn't kill Teresa."

"And who am I supposed to ask?" Thelonious juts his head up in challenge. "My dead wife? My dead son?"

"I know it hurts-"

"You don't know shit!" Thelonious screams in her face, shoving her backwards. "You always thought someone was out to get you. But look at yourself Abby, look at what you do to people who have even an inkling of your crazed paranoias! You don't know anything about anyone, not even yourself." Clarke bites her tongue and refuses to step in, knowing that her voice in the matter will only make things worse. Thelonious calms himself when he sees the tears steadily falling down Abby's face and takes as step back, sighing as he drops to one of the kitchen stools. The house feel so empty, so cold and barren.

"Everything I ever had," Thelonious murmurs as he places his phone on the counter and looks up to Abby, "everyone I _loved_ , you destroyed."

"Wells was a hero," Abby whispers as she takes a step forward to face the grieving man, "his death was untimely, unjustified, but it did not come by my hand. I would never. You know what he meant to me, to all of us." Thelonious continues to stare emptily into the other woman's pleading gaze, not moving in the slightest. He licks over his lips once, wetting them to alleviate the sting in the chapped centre before he sucks in a deep breath.

"What about my wife?" He asks with a low rasp. "What about Teresa?" Abby's gaze never wavers.

"It wasn't me," Abby whispers as desperately as she can. "Please, you have to believe me."

"Then why are you here?" Thelonious questions, still not entirely in belief of Abby's honesty but not discounting his old friend either. "If you are not here for forgiveness then why come to my house at such a late hour, when you could've come years ago, days after, right after-"

"We're back," Lexa answers for the ex-soldier, causing Thelonious to look over Abby's shoulder to the brunette. Lexa flashes her cybernetic blue eyes at him, barely offering more than a nod before they revert back to the sea greens that he'd seen earlier. Clarke stares at the machine, but Lexa doesn't move. Her eyes are glued to Thelonious' wide and disbelieving stare, waiting for him to say something or make another move with engrained patience.

"You told me there'd be no more machines," Thelonious growls as he swivels his head to face Abby. "You told me it was over. Wells-"

"I know," Abby mutters as she bows her head, "I know and I was wrong."

"You destroyed everything," Thelonious continues to say in horror, glancing back to a still-unmoving Lexa. "You destroyed it all."

"It's happening again," Abby says as she comes to stand in Thelonious' way, growing more desperate by the minute. "Everything Teresa and I fought to stop is happening again. Her work at Cyberdyne with Wells is the only link we have. Is there anyone, anyone who's shown interest in her work, in his machines, his computers? Any kind of link at all?" Thelonious' gaze narrows and he shakes his head, chuckling bitterly as his eyes well with tears.

"There's nobody," Thelonious mutters as he drops his stare to the floor. "T's computers were scrubbed. The code existed within Wells, my boy… my boy was so special, too special. He never told anyone anything, not even me. He just wrote and built. Anything you want to know about Skynet is destroyed." Abby bites her lip as she takes in the information, her gaze fleeting over to Clarke's teary one. She knows it can't be easy for her, to sit here and listen to this.

"We have to go," Lexa suddenly says as she snaps her head quickly to the side. "Now. He's here."

Abby looks reluctant and desperate at the same time. She turns to Thelonious, more pleadingly than ever. Lexa remains true to her ground, but Abby notices when she shifts a little closer to Clarke, her eyes still glued to the door like an attack dog. Clarke subtly moves towards her, her eyes begging her mother to come with her but she can't leave without information. Abby didn't come this far to fail. She gazes back at Thelonious, the tears streaking down her face.

"Please," Abby begs again, "if you won't help me, just help my daughter."

-/-

"Now," Lexa says as she jumps in the back of Thelonious' Range Rover, "he's in position."

Clarke turns on the engine and glances up at the tearful man standing at the front of his garage door, eyes unfocused and still mourning. Clarke shifts the gear into reverse and hammers down on the accelerator, propelling the car backwards until Cromartie comes into position. She pulls the same move Lexa had done earlier while saving the blonde and runs him over, nearly flattening him at the speed of her acceleration. Abby sits in the passenger seat, shotgun at the ready as Clarke swerves the car into drive, throttling forward and up the winding driveway towards the street. 

Gunshots ring out as they drive away, and it isn't until a sharp yelp from Abby nearly jars Clarke to a halt. But Abby shakes her head and glares at her daughter, reaching up to press her hands into her shoulder where blood seeps out so that she can growl, "keep fucking driving." Clarke barely nods through her tears as she passes the car they'd used to get to the Jaha residence. In the rearview mirror she can make out the Cromartie running behind him, assault rifle in hand and a determined expression set in his metallic red eyes. Clarke speeds up, only pausing when she sees Lexa hold up the car keys. She beeps them once, causing the trucks lights to flash, and then once more as Cromartie nears the vehicle.

Cromartie is thrown backwards and into the grass as the car explodes in massive burst of light.

"Never subtle, are you?" Abby rasps as she glares over her shoulder to Lexa. "Explosions? Really?"

"You told me to prepare," Lexa answers in response, "so I did." The girl shrugs and throws the keys away so she can press her hands to Abby's shoulder. Abby hisses and Clarke's stomach flips at the noise, but her mother shakes her head and nonverbally tells her to keep driving.

Clarke does as she's told in silence, with the only sounds being the faint gasps from her mother and the purring of the engine. She drives until she notices how pale her mother has gotten and decides to pull over at a remote gas station. Abby orders Lexa to drive and for Clarke to go to the store for bandages and rubbing alcohol. Reluctantly the blonde agrees, only because she's the only one without blood on her hands (ironic, she thinks) and it would raise the least amount of suspicion. Lexa promptly tells her that there was an old shack she saw a few yards away and that they would park there for the night.

Clarke whips open the door, ignoring the sound of the fading tire squealing and roaring engine leaving her ears. She walks up and down the aisles, avoiding eye contact and forcing herself not to shake. She's seen the devastation in Thelonious' eyes, the betrayal that laid there, deep and festering for so long - too long, really. She sucks in a forced breath and reaches the medicine aisle, grabbing what she needs before paying and leaving the store. The walk back to the shack leaves her numb, heavy, tired. She has a constant ache in the pit of her heart from all those losses and she can't help but wish she knew her father. She wants to know if he's as brave as her mother, as strong and as defiant and as willing to sacrifice as the woman who'd raised her on her own.

Something tells Clarke she already knows the answer.

-/-

Lexa rolls up the door of the locked shack like it's nothing, before turning around and beckoning for Abby to drive the car in. 

Abby barely is able to haul the car forward before she slumps against the front of the wheel. She shakily powers down the engine and steps out, watching from afar as Lexa clears a table and sets the first aid kit they'd found in the trunk on the side trolley. Abby limps over, shedding her jacket on the way there. She passes a glare to the cyborg before nodding at the steel table, sucking in a laboured breath as she slumps against the cool metal.

"Needle and thread," she mutters as she feels Lexa's arms around her knees and waist, hoisting her gently to the table, "get it done before she gets back." Lexa nods and rips open her shirt, glancing at the wound and assessing it before nodding down at the older woman.

"I'll get you some ice," Abby hears her say as she flips onto her side, "it'll numb the pain, slow the blood loss."

"Needle and thread slow the blood loss," the older woman argues weakly, her jaw setting as she flinches at the feeling of Lexa's slender fingers tracing around the edge of the bullet would. "The metal is still inside. Get it out and stitch it up. Clarke doesn't need to see it." She doesn't see Lexa nod, but she hears some sort of affirmative grunt. She isn't really prepared for the way the alcoholic swab from the kit stings against the mouth of her exposed flesh, but she bites down on her shirt sleeve to mask the pain. Lexa doesn't apologize as she sets out to work, her hands tediously stitching the skin back together.

"We can't keep running," Abby whispers as she closes her eyes, "I'll lose her. I'll lose my girl. She'll leave me."

Lexa doesn't offer a response as she continues to tether the two ends of skin together. She glances at the removed, bloody bullet on the metal table next to her, but doesn't speak. Something Abby's voice cracks when she feels the knot of the thread being tightly wound upon her skin. Dizziness overwhelms her, coupled with the blood loss, and it's enough to make black spots appear in her eyes. She's growing tired and weary, but she won't go down without a fight.

"Then we stop running," Lexa tells her, bandaging up the wound. Abby chuckles tiredly, tears leaking out from under her eyelids.

"And do what?" She rasps, barely conscious, but awake enough to hear Lexa's soft reply.

"Fight."

-/-

Clarke walks through the open shaft door to see Lexa draping Abby's leather jacket over her resting mother in the front seat of the car. A thin bandage is placed upon her skin already, showing spots of crimson through the padding. Knowing that her mind can't bear another moment of seriousness, she walks up to Lexa and hands her the supplies she'd retrieved from the convenience store. The brunette accepts it and takes the massive gauze bandages out first, tending to her mother silently. Clarke swallows at the sight of relaxation on Abby's sleeping face, feeling guilt weather within her when she realizes that she got shot trying to protect her. If only she'd driven faster, differently, maybe she could've avoided all of this pain. She shakes away the thought.

"You know," she speaks quietly, "if you didn't want me to be there, you could've just said so."

"It wasn't my request," Lexa says as she finishes taping up the gauze. "It was your mother's."

"Right," Clarke echoes, ignoring how her heart twists again. "So what do we do now? Cromartie has to be dead, right?"

"No," Lexa mutters as she grabs a swab and wipes her bloodied hands clean. "He will not be dead until all of him is destroyed."

"And how do we do that?" Clarke questions tiredly, fighting sleep as she leans against the door of the car. Lexa sets aside the rest of the materials she'd used to heal her mother and offers Clarke a gentle smile. It's one that warms the blonde's aching soul and ignites a slight spark in her chest. 

"When you are both awake," Lexa replies as she opens the back door to the Range Rover, "rest now, Clarke. We can plan in the morning."

"What about you?" Clarke asks as Lexa helps settle her onto the car seats. Lexa tilts her head and frowns.

"I don't sleep," she answers bluntly, "I am powered by a sustainable nuclear-"

"Yeah, yeah, plasma reactors and hyper-alloy skins - I get it," Clarke interrupts with a smirk, "but don't you have like a standby mode or something?"

"Not for short-term purposes," Lexa replies without a lift to her voice, "it's re-"

"Redundant," Clarke finishes for her, "yeah, I figured that much."

"If you knew then why did you ask?" Lexa ponders, seemingly confused at Clarke's response. The blonde only shrugs as she closes her eyes. She wills herself to think of good things, of Finn back in L.A., of Charlie and his dog, Max. Of her friends she'd made at her old high school. She numbs the pain the same way she's always done. She realizes that Lexa is still waiting on an answer, so she sighs and curls into herself a bit before nodding.

"Humans are like that," she murmurs tiredly, " _redundant_ is all we know."

"If I can ask," Lexa quietly whispers the words, causing Clarke's right eye to lazily open half-way, "why?"

"You know," Clarke muses as she thinks to the history of humanity, of the wars and deaths and mindless hatred, "I don't really know."

"Oh," Lexa says, her brows furrowing cutely as she leans back. Then she sets her jaw and nods down at the blonde. "Thank you for explaining."

Clarke wants to tell Lexa that she's not really explained anything, but sleep finds her before she can even bother to whisper a sound. She has a dreamless slumber, one that she is grateful for after the hectic pace of the last two days. She wakes up before her mother does, only to find Lexa standing guard at the front of the shack like a hollow guard. She chuckles at the sight of Lexa's straight back, her hands loose at her sides, her head tilted slightly upwards.

"Hey Anna Loginova, it's okay, we're not getting jumped anytime soon," Clarke calls out, careful not to wake her mother as she stumbles out of the car. Lexa's head whips around and she offers another smile, just as small and hesitant as the last few. At least she's smiling, Clarke thinks to herself as she walks up to where Lexa is standing, watching the closed door with guarded eyes. Clarke sighs and reaches out subconsciously to rub her stiff arm.

Lexa pulls back as if she'd been burned, utterly confused by Clarke's action. The blonde is just as taken aback, more so by Lexa's reaction than anything else. A deep red flushes upon her cheeks as she timidly looks away, trying to ignore how Lexa stares at her, baffled by the gesture. Clarke rubs the back of her head in embarrassment and shame as she takes a step back from the other girl, looking anywhere but Lexa's face as she swallows nervously.

"Clarke?" _Dammit, here it comes._ "Why did you touch me like that?"

"I was trying to comfort you," Clarke blurts out as she grimaces at the words leaving her mouth, "I don't know, I forgot you weren't… well, _you_."

"Me?" Lexa asks, brow raising. "Why would you forget who I am? Do you have memory issues? Do you need to see a doctor? Your physical scans appear to be normal, aside from the sudden increase in epinephrine, serotonin, and oxytocin. Blood pressure is above normal, showing signs of heightened arousal-"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on!" Clarke cuts in, her face an even deeper shade of red than before. "How did you get all that?"

"I scanned you," Lexa responds without a pause. "Does this information surprise you, Clarke?"

"God, a bit, no _a lot_. I mean, have you been scanning me all the time? What else do you know about me? Can you see through me and all that stuff?" Clarke continues to ask, blabbering at the realization that all those times she'd seen Lexa's back, or her biceps, her grin, when she fights, or her ass when-

"Clarke?" Abby's tired voice calls out from the truck and Clarke whips around, grateful for the interruption because she isn't quite sure if she wants to hear Lexa's answer or not. She practically sprints over to her mother, ignoring the way she suspiciously glances over at a still-befuddled Lexa. 

"Mom," Clarke replies softly, gazing at her shoulder as the real world begins to set in, "how are you feeling?"

"Better," Abby answers back as she leans up. She looks past Clarke and the blonde knows that Lexa's much closer now than she was before. Lexa moves to Clarke's side, blissfully unaware of how it both irritates and excites the human girl at the same time. She checks on the bandage and nods in approval.

"You are healing well. Bleeding has stopped and you show no signs of internal damage," Lexa announces, flashing Abby a wry smile. Clarke's mother only perks her brow before cocking her head, unsure of how the other woman came about all that information. Before Lexa can speak, Clarke cuts in.

"She scanned you," Clarke answers before the brunette can open her mouth. Lexa nods and parts her lips.

"I also scanned Clarke-"

"And found out that I was fine," Clarke finishes quickly, shooting a glare in the confused woman's direction. The last thing she needs is her mother to be worried about anything going on between the two of them. Or between Clarke and Lexa, most so Clarke with Lexa and not Lexa with Clarke and honestly sometimes Clarke wishes her brain would shut off and just power down or go to standby mode or something. But then she chuckles when she remembers Lexa's words from last night, about standby mode being redundant and all. She's about to delve further into the memory when a finger jabs her side.

"Where did you go?" Abby asks, perking a brow as Clarke visibly blushes. 

"I do not understand," Lexa cuts in, glancing at Clarke like she'd grown another head. "She has not moved."

"It's an expression," Clarke sighs as she ignores Lexa's round eyes, "and I didn't go anywhere. Enough about me, what's the plan, Mom?"

Abby sighs and looks at Lexa before nodding. Clarke is the one to frown in confusion this time as Lexa turns to her and says, "we need to leave."

"Where to?" Clarke responds back, finally looking the other girl in the eye. Lexa smiles again, that flimsy half-turned grin.

"I'll show you."

-/-

" _Security Trust of Los Angeles_?" Abby asks as she pulls the car into a parking lot. "You took us to a bank?"

Lexa nods and opens the door, indicating for the rest to follow. Abby looks over at her daughter, still confused at this morning's events, but Clarke seems to bolt out of the car to prevent confrontation of any kind. Abby sighs and closes the door of the car, locking it only once after she passes a hesitant stare at Lexa's back. She gazes back at the bank and bites down the ache in her shoulder, following after her daughter and the machine with a swift jog.

"So do you have like an account here or something?" Clarke asks as she eyes the bank. "A wad of cash for a big getaway?"

"No," Lexa answers shortly, not bothering to look in her direction, "a safety deposit box."

"For what?" Abby asks, but Lexa opens the door and doesn't answer. In horror, Abby watches as she steps forward and reaches into the holster of the closest security guard and pulls at his gun. Everyone in the bank turns around and a few people scream, but Lexa remains undeterred by the reaction.

"Everyone on the floor," Lexa calls out without much aggression to her voice. She cocks her head and then adds, "please."

Abby's eyes widen and she looks at Clarke, but her daughter just shakes her head in confusion. As far as bank heists go, this is the least productive one. But still, people listen and get down, not wanting to tempt the teenager with a gun. Lexa calmly steps over the security guard and goes to the front desk where a woman is cowering, visibly shaking from where she clutches the edge of the counter. Abby's breath hitches when she sees her thumb pressed over the button that alerts the police, but once again, Lexa doesn't appear phased at the notion of being called. Instead she clicks the gun at the woman.

"Keys to the safety deposit boxes," she orders as she points her weapon further towards her head, "now."

"I-I, they're here," she says as she reaches under her desk. Lexa offers another one of her wry smiles as she points towards a staircase, presumedly leading towards the vault in the basement. She clicks the gun once more and the woman gets the message, leading them down the staircase and towards the massive metal vault. Lexa smiles at her again, and the woman is noticeably six shades paler than when she first started them on their journey.

"Inside," Lexa orders Abby and Clarke before turning back to the trembling woman, "please give me the keys. Lock us in."

The woman obliges and Lexa follows after Clarke and Abby before turning to tell the worker, "step away from the door when you're done. I'll know if you don't." Abby, still suspicious of the machine, goes to protest, but Clarke's hand on her elbow holds her back. Lexa keeps her gun pointed to the worker and waits until the door closes. Lexa remains standing, facing the metallic box until there's a soft click. Finally she turns to face Abby and Clarke, lowering her weapon and moving further into the massive vault with a determined look in her green eyes. Abby shifts uncomfortably, still waiting for answers.

"You said you have a safety deposit box?" Abby asks as she eyes the taller brunette. Lexa turns and nods.

"I do," she answers as she walks over to a set of boxes against the east wall. She stands before the rows of boxes, her brows furrowed and creased like she's scanning them all, which at this point, is the only thing Abby assumes the girl could possibly be doing. She's about to question it when Lexa moves.

Without any warning, her fist punching through the metal plating of one of the smaller boxes. Abby and Clarke make their way over to her, watching as Lexa fishes out three sets of key rings, each filled with twenty or so individual keys. Lexa holds them up and throws them each a ring.

"Open these boxes and put everything you find on the tables," Lexa orders, still not explaining anything. Clarke goes to open her mouth when Lexa turns and quickly adds, "gently." Not leaving room for response, she starts out on the opposite end of the room. Abby still wants to protest, but she's surprised when she sees Clarke set to work without any real question. Her brow raises, but she figures sitting in a locked vault with a plan is better than without one.

Abby finds the first box on the northern end of the vault. She inserts the key and twists, her brows shooting up to the ceiling when she reaches inside and finds three cylindrical items that resemble the base of a grenade launcher. She looks up to see that Clarke and Lexa have found similar parts, and it hits Abby then that they're building a weapon, one that might just be big enough to stop whatever wants to come through that locked door.

Or, so she hopes.

-/-

When all the pieces are on the table, Clarke finally turns to Lexa and says, "explain."

"You can't bring anything through when you come," Lexa says as she sets the last piece, a small vial of clear liquid, onto the table. She pries open the small metal box and inserts the tube inside before clipping it shut. "No clothing, no weapons, nothing. We must send someone back to build it."

"And what exactly is this?" Clarke asks as Lexa flips a switch on the underside of the hatch, causing the small box to buzz and the liquid to turn yellow. Abby gulps as Lexa lifts it up to face-level, her gaze hardened and sure as she looks up at the three of them with a nod.

"A weapon," Abby finishes for the machine. This time Lexa doesn't move her head in response.

"Hope," she offers instead as she stares at the yellow liquid burbling inside the small hatch. She sets it back down and looks up at the two other women cautiously, her gaze still unrelentingly stoic but wary in the same. Clarke finds it intriguing that for something with no concept of emotion, Lexa is pretty good at showing them. But then, as Lexa goes to speak, her head snaps back and she glares at the door, her entire body practically vibrating with rage.

"We have to hurry," she says as she looks to the scattered pieces of the weapon, "we must assemble it before he breaks the door."

"Will that stop it?" Abby asks in a growl as she starts grabbing at parts. Lexa shakes her head and gives her that signature flimsy smile.

"No," she replies, "but it will _stall_ him."

They work quickly, with Clarke finding herself surprised at how technologically evolved this gun is. It's simple in its design, what with the easy piece together parts, but the mechanical structure of the ammunition baffles her. She wants to tear it apart but she knows that they don't have the time for a nerd session in the middle of practically an all-out war. This weapon is their only, and probably, last chance considering their location, at survival. Clarke finishes up the last piece of the end of the gun when she hears a shattering sound from beyond the metal door. She steps away from the table in confusion, moving towards the giant vault block that's currently locking them inside their encapsulated space. 

She's about to take another step when Lexa orders, "step away from the door."

Clarke turns, confused. This door could survive a C4 detonation. "Why?"

Just then, the eighteen-inch thick glass on the inside of the door shatters, causing Clarke to jump and Abby to spring to her daughter's side.

"That's why," Lexa says, still wiring the last bits of the weapon together. Clarke watches with wide eyes as something - or rather _someone_ \- begins pounding against the metal in an effort to weaken it. She whips around to see Lexa finish the last parts before she holds it up and out to Abby.

"That better be what I think it is," Abby says with a heightened gasp, taking the gun from Lexa's reach. The machine doesn't reply to her question as she turns the dial on the yellow vile up to the highest degree, causing the bubbles inside the liquid to rise faster and the colour to grow darker.

"One of our best engineers," Lexa says with a nod. "Took him eight months to scavenge the parts. When the isotope solution turns red, fire."

"Isotope?" Abby asks, baffled as she looks to the orangish liquid. "Is this nuclear?"

"No, not really," Lexa says over her shoulder as she goes over to another set of boxes. Abby plants herself at the door but Clarke doesn't have any of it. She marches behind Lexa, trying to ignore the rhythmic pounding coming from the door. They don't have much time, as best as that door is built, the strength of a machine is far stronger than any other metal. Clarke grabs at Lexa's arm as she reaches for another box, glaring at the brunette with fear in her eyes.

"I don't get why you locked us in here?" Clarke seethes as Lexa rips her arm away and unlocks another box. She glares at the door and growls, "we're trapped like rats. If he gets in, we're fucking done. All of this will have been for nothing. Why risk it all?" She turns back to stare at Lexa, only to gasp as the machine gets the door open and a red laser shoots out, scanning her eyes and beeping when she's accepted. Another door underneath swings open.

"What the hell is that?" Clarke asks, watching as Lexa opens the door and pulls out a computer-like object. She starts tapping in information into the system, and that's when the blonde realizes that it's not just a bunch of numbers, it's a date. She gulps down her anxiety as Lexa's head nods up and they make eye-contact. The screen of the computer shows a three-dimensional, hexagonal shape morphing into a sphere as it loads the image.

"Engineer got a job building a vault," Lexa answers as her gaze flits over to an equally confused Abby, "he built sections into the security deposit boxes so that we'd always have a way back home." Clarke watches as the image on the screen continues to grow into a sphere, the understanding beginning to sink in. She gulps and looks up to Lexa with a pale expression, her nerves flitting like buzzing wasps inside her churning stomach.

"Time travel," Clarke stutters, "we're talking about fucking _time travel_."

Lexa pauses at Clarke's tone, but then she nods and says, "yes. It is the only way."

The pounding at the door intensifies, only this time the squealing of metal can be heard, too. Abby grips the gun tighter and glares at her.

"What have you done?" The older woman demands, staring at the screen Clarke's gaze is glued upon. "I thought you said you were here to protect us."

"I am," Lexa replies, pointing to the giant red button on the aged console. "You want to _find_ Skynet? You want to _stop_ Skynet? This is the way."

"This is crazy," Clarke juts in, pulling again on Lexa's arm. "Come on, we can't just alter reality and skip forward, it's ludicrous. Lexa?! We don't know who builds it!" Clarke's voice seems tuned out, however, when she glances over to where Abby is staring at the button with a pensive, serious expression.

"No," Lexa says, her stare still glued on Abby, "but we know where and we know when. We can go there and kill it before it's born."

Clarke is about to protest when the metal door peels apart and Cromartie's head pokes through the small hole. Lexa is still staring at Abby.

"We can stop running, stay in one place," Lexa continues to urge her as Cromartie's growl rips through the air, "we can _fight_."

Clarke lets the words digest as she watches the door crumple apart under the cyborg's hands. As much as she believes in time alterations and the whole Butterfly Effect, she knows that other option is a certain death. She reluctantly looks to her mother, teary-eyed and mournful as she nods. 

"Mom," Clarke says in a rasp. Abby draws a breath before she dips her head slightly at the both of them.

"Do it," Abby orders as she readies her weapon. "Hit the button."

Clarke doesn't protest this time as Lexa's hand presses the glowing red button. There's a loud humming noise, like that of a jet engine before take-off. Clarke follows behind Lexa as they surround themselves around Abby. Cackles of blue lightening crack and spit across the room until it forms a quasi-circle around the three bodies. Cromartie continues to peel apart the door and Clarke shivers when she sees that he makes a big enough partition to walk through. Abby glances down at the isotope filter, watching as it finally bubbles from a dark blood orange to a seething red.

When Abby pulls the trigger, the room explodes in a flash of blue and white.

-/-

Hot.

That's the first feeling Abby experiences upon waking up. Her flesh feels like she's been thrown into a pit of coals and was slowly roasted for a few hours. That's the sensation she gets first, followed by the nipping of cool air against bare skin and the faint sound of sizzling surrounding her.

Wait, she pauses, _bare_ skin?

Abby blinks her eyes open to see that she's one-hundred percent naked, and to add a cherry on top, from the sounds of honking and muffled exclaims, they're in the middle of a busy roadway. Of all the places for them to time travel, they had to land in the middle of a fucking road. Abby shuffles to her feet, shivering as the cooler air nips at her skin. She glances over to see Clarke starting to awake, her daughter as nude as she is and sprawled out in the hole they'd left in the middle of the concrete. Lexa is crouched over like some perfect body and Abby has the decency to look away from the multiple scars that line her back and the massive tattoo that runs from her neck to just above the base of her spine. It's intricate and beautiful, but she can't voice her thoughts. She glances back to Clarke and frowns when she finds her daughter practically staring at Lexa with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Lexa finally wakes from whatever trance she'd been in and the three of them rise. Clarke and Abby places the hands and arms around their private bits, but Lexa remains fully unabashed as she stares into the stopped car in front of them. Abby can faintly make out the flash of a light from within the car and she knows that someone must've leaked the picture to a mobile platform by now. Lexa passes them one last stare before she darts off the road, Abby and Clarke following en suite. They scramble down the hillside and towards a construction zone, ducking behind old machines as the night blankets them with dark cover. They stop behind a crane and peek out at the small road carved out beneath them. Beside her, Clarke shivers in both shock and cold.

"Where are we?" Abby asks, unable to hide the tremble from her voice as she looks to Lexa. The machine points to one of the road work signs.

_ROAD WORK: EXPECT DELAYS 09/03/07 TO 04/10/07._

"Same where," Lexa says as she nods back to the two women, "different when."

"Holy shit," Clarke gasps as she hears the squealing of tires from beneath them, "we actually fucking did it. We're in the future."

Lexa doesn't respond, however, because she's busy walking down the slope and towards the small car driving through the road. She stops in the middle and Abby presses herself closer to Clarke to keep them out of view. She stands behind her daughter and watches as the car screeches to a halt and three men step out, obviously hammered and influenced by something other than just alcohol. They grin and bark slanders at the nude girl in front of them, and Abby can't bother to hide her smirk this time as one of them goes to touch Lexa's arm, but her leg kicks up and smacks him in the throat. She takes the other two out with a well-placed roundhouse and another elbow to the face. Abby glances down to see Clarke staring again and she can't help but roll her eyes.

"So it _was_ a pretty girl, hmm?" Abby murmurs, still smirking when she sees Clarke blush and look away from where Lexa is now standing, still nude, waiting for them. Clarke just bounds downwards, ignoring her mother's exasperated sigh as she follows the nude blonde to the road. Lexa's already stripped two of them as she hands out their clothes. She looks to Clarke and offers her that strange, lopsided smile that makes Abby's gut twist with suspicion. She acts too… _human_ , for the ex-soldier's liking. She knows that machines can't feel, and at the end of the day, no smile will ever change that about Lexa.

At the end of the day, to Abby at least, they're _all_ the same.

"You should dress first," Lexa insists as she holds out their shirts to Clarke, "you were cold earlier."

"Did you scan me again?" Clarke grumbles as she takes the black long-sleeved shirt and wide jeans. Lexa is silent for a moment, but then she nods.

"Yes," Lexa answers honestly, and at least Abby can feel happy knowing that she's not capable of lying, "I was…" Lexa's brow furrows and she genuinely looks confused, like she can't explain the motive behind her action. Abby trembles a little more, not knowing what the machine in front of her is fully capable of doing. They'd known each other for a grand total of four days - well, eight years and four days if the time jump counts as anything - but Abby still doesn't know if she can trust the machine to do everything in her power to protect Clarke. She's met a lot of nasty machines and it never ends well.

"Worried?" Clarke finishes for her. Lexa still looks confused, but she doesn't respond to the comment. Abby clears her throat as she takes the other pair of clothing and nods at the remaining articles in Lexa's hands. The girl looks up, still a bit distant, but then her eyes snap back into that stoic façade.

"As much as you love your new skin, cover it up." Abby let's the smallest of smirks play at her lips and Lexa nods, taking the clothes.

They change quietly, not looking at each other until the new clothes are strewn upon their bodies. The baggy pants barely hug her hips and the loose hoodie drapes over her like a dress, but Abby is warm and despite the stench of alcohol and weed clinging to her clothes, she is grateful. When she turns around, she sees Clarke's face turn red and a small chuckle escape her lips. Even though they're in the future, with the mission of having to end the destroyer of worlds, to prevent the death of millions, Abby finds herself smiling at the rare, yet touchingly familiar sound of Clarke's laughter.

"What?" She asks, raising her brow good-naturedly. "Do I not pull off Snoop Dog? What about… what was his name… uh, Vanilla Ice Cube?"

"Mom no," Clarke grimaces, "first of all, it's just Ice and that's a terrible reference to which I'm _surprised_ I'm not gagging right now. And secondly, no, not even in the slightest." Abby tries to do a pose but Clarke giggles and shakes her head as Abby's warm smile lands upon her. Lexa seems confused at the interaction but smiles anyways, nudging a little closer to Clarke before she stares at Abby, awaiting the next round of questions to be fired her way. Clarke looks between them, and then at the road work sign again, her eyes trained in on the flashing dates. She sighs and leans against one of the cranes tiredly.

"So this is where it all starts?" Clarke asks, glancing over at Lexa. "This is where Skynet begins?" The other girl nods and looks to Abby's daughter.

"Somewhere in there," she murmurs as she folds her hands behind her back. Clarke's smile grows a little wider.

"And nobody knows we're here?" She asks as she looks to Abby with a newfound sense of hope, one that Abby can't turn down for the life of her. Again, Lexa shakes her head and takes a breath, not that she needs one, but Abby's come to understand that Lexa has a sense of… dramatics for a killer-AI. She turns to look down at Clarke, almost reassuringly with her gentle green eyes as she parts her lips and straightens her back.

"You're safe," she murmurs, before walking towards the new car without looking back. Something clouds Clarke's expression and she bites her lip.

"No one is ever safe," Abby and Clarke say in unison. Clarke stiffens and turns her head to look at her mother slightly, but neither of them speak. A brief sense of pride surges through the ex-solider, that for once one of her lessons stuck with her stubborn daughter. But then it hits her as Clarke wipes the smile off her face and trudges behind a waiting Lexa, that those lessons also mean that she's growing more ready each day for her real mission in life.

Sometimes, Abby wishes that she'd never met Jake. Sometimes she wishes that she never sat in that room with him as he talked about the war. Sometimes she wishes that he didn't hold her like she was precious glass or revere her like a God amongst mortals. Sometimes, in the darkest of nights while she can hear Clarke's fitful nightmares from the room next door, she wishes that he hadn't kissed her, touched her, made love to her and gave her the greatest gift she'd ever receive. But every time she does of it, of her life without Jake's presence and Jake's love, of a life where she could've been married to Charlie and had a dog instead of a daughter, her heart sinks. She looks to Clarke's beautiful face, her radiant smile, her joyous laugh, and she always regrets the thought. Because Clarke is here, and Clarke is her life now. Clarke is her will to live, her motivation, her deepest tragedy but greatest accomplishment.

As she looks at Clarke now, sitting in the backseat, nearly asleep, she realizes one important thing.

Clarke is everything.

It is said that the death of any one person, is the death of an entire world, most certainly for parents. The death of a child is no less than the men and women slaughtered in genocide and war, and in the case of her daughter, Abby knows that these words are literally and painstakingly true. That the roots of Clarke's death would surpass her own grief, but grief of millions. And even though they've traveled through time, bent the rules of nature, they will keep coming for Clarke, keep trying to kill her. They will go to any extent to bring her harm and end her life so the rest of humanity's own may never begin.

But until that day, Abby thinks as she looks to Lexa staring at her from the car window, it's going to be one hell of a dog-fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that went okay. 
> 
> As mentioned in the story notes, A LOT of the dialogue is TSCC canon, so if you see something familiar, I'm not ripping it, I'm just using it as plot-furthering. As the story progress we'll diverge more from the TSCC plot and more into something of my own thought process. This is just to make a setting, if you can call it that. I dunno, I'm probably rambling because I need sleep, but anyways, that was chapter one! I hope it wasn't too thick and dense with plot and Lexa's awkwardness wasn't too forced. Humour is my weakness.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you can, as you can see nearly 20k is a bit (a lot) of a long stretch and I know some people won't have stuck through the entire thing, but if you can drop a few words, I'd be grateful forever <3 Your feedback means the world to me, but again, no pressure. Just knowing that someone reads these stories, or any stories on AO3 or FF.net now that are happier Clexa ones, it makes me glad to know that people are still writing despite Lexa's shitty and untimely death (but I won't rant about that now).
> 
> Expect updates for other stories after tomorrow afternoon! 
> 
> Cheers! :)


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